


What I Needed Most

by shipbullshit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Homeless, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Not completed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:21:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipbullshit/pseuds/shipbullshit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From troubling pasts to being homeless to a passion for music, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson have a startling amount in common. When they first encounter each other performing on the streets of London, they see the other as nothing but competition. However when the unbearably cold winter rolls around, they find that they need each other more than anything else. They manage to get past their disagreements and fall totally, helplessly in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> helloo! this is my first fic on ao3 and the second fic i've ever written (we don't talk about that train wreck of a first story on wattpad) so i'm still pretty new to this kind of thing.  
> this story takes place in london. i'm from new york and have never been to london, so most things regarding the setting are based off of a bit of research i did. i'm hoping that everything is factually correct, but if not please let me know and i'll fix it if possible.  
> if you want to reach me my instagram is @ship_bullshit  
> enjoy! :)

Harry’s backpack and guitar case seemed to grow heavier with every tired, trudging step that he took. He placed them down next to him with a sigh as he took a seat on the steps of the National Gallery art museum.

Harry had been in foster care for the past two years of his life. It definitely sucked, but he figured that it had to suck considerably less than living on the streets of London. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice. Once he turned 18 last February, he was given 6 months to figure out what the hell he wanted to do with himself before they kicked him out.

Harry, being the ever-so-great decision maker, figured he would wing it.

Earlier that warm August day he packed his bag and left that hell hole of a home. He had some money that his mother had left him in her will, but it wasn’t enough for an apartment or hotel room. They didn’t have much money towards the end.

Harry had taken a train into London and found himself wandering into Trafalgar Square, in the heart of the city. It was a bittersweet place for him. He could recall the many times his mum had taken him and his older sister, Gemma, there as kids. Although the place hit him with nostalgia the way a bug gets hit by a car windshield, he decided it wouldn’t be too bad to stay here for now.

He leaned back against the steps and closed his eyes, resting a bit. He breathed in the sickly sweet city air, felt the afternoon sun warm his face, and listened to the chatter of hundreds of people around him and the honking of dozens of car horns. For the first time in literally years he felt… relaxed.

So damn relaxed, in fact, that he nearly fell asleep. But right as he was about to doze off he heard a noise. It wasn’t just any noise. It was a voice, and this voice was singing.

Harry had a deep love for music, and he knew a good singer when he heard one. But this boy was fucking _fantastic_. His voice delicately danced up and down the scale, hitting each note with perfection. It was very unique; higher than most and pretty breathy. It was absolutely lovely.

Said voice had a magical quality to it that compelled Harry to find the boy that it came from. He got up and meandered over to where he saw a small crowd had formed near one of the fountains in the square. Harry gently nudged his way to the front of the semi-circle to get a look at who was singing.

Standing before him was the most beautiful creature Harry has ever seen. He was shorter than Harry, with sun-kissed skin, caramel hair, and the most enchanting blue eyes. Harry watched in a trance as the boy’s lips moved and curved to form the words and he swayed lightly on his feet, clearly enjoying himself.

The boy finished and grinned as people clapped and tossed money into a hat on the ground. The crowd dispersed but Harry still stood mesmerized. Before he knew what was happening, the boy turned towards Harry. Harry continued to stare, but then realized that he was talking to him.

“Oops,” Harry said, mentally shaking himself out of his trance. “What was that?”

“Hi,” the boy repeated with a hint of a smirk, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “I’m Louis.”

“Oh, hi,” Harry said with a blush.

Silence.

“Ya got a name?” Louis asked.

 _Idiot_. “Oh, right, um my name’s Harry,” he stuttered out.

“Well it’s very nice to meet you Harry. Are you gonna leave a tip or are you gonna stand here all day staring at me?”

 _Standing here and staring wouldn’t be too awful_ , Harry thought. But instead he said, “Got no money.”

Louis shrugged. “Fair enough.”

And with that the magical boy picked up his hat and was off. Harry resisted the urge to stare at his butt as he walked away and turned around to walk back to the steps. He kicked himself internally for stupidly leaving his stuff there, but luckily no one took anything.

It was about 6 o’clock, according to Harry’s watch, so he figured he would get a bite to eat. He ended up getting McDonalds to avoid spending too much. As Harry sat in the dingy fast food restaurant with his guitar and his backpack by his side, he tried to figure out some sort of way to make money. He never went to college, let alone graduated high school, so finding a job was going to be rather difficult. His thoughts started to wander to Louis. He wondered where he was from and what his favorite movie was and what his favorite album was and if he preferred tea or coffee and if he would ever see him again.

And that’s when it hit him: if Louis could make some money performing on the street, then Harry could probably do the same! He loved to sing and play guitar and he was told he was quite good at it. God, why hadn’t he thought of it earlier?

He had a way of making money, a place to stay, a full stomach, and a crush so Harry went to sleep that night feeling as at peace as a man sleeping against a fountain in Trafalgar Square using a lumpy backpack as a pillow could possibly be.

-

Harry awoke with the sunrise. He winced as he sat up, his back and neck sore from sleeping on concrete all night. Harry watched the very few people milling around. The square didn't usually start to get busy until around noon, so Harry decided to wander around a bit till then. He wanted the square to be packed when he started performing to make as much of a profit as possible.

Harry walked around, tracing his fingers over the side of the fountains and gazing at the buildings. The last time his mum took him and his sister there, they went to the art museum and ate sandwiches on the steps. It wasn't a momentous memory, yet it was the small, normal, every day things that made him miss his family the most.

With a pang of sadness, he remembered the time his 16-year-old self came here alone. It was when things were getting really, really bad; almost at the breaking point. His mother's brain tumor had totally ruined her. He recalled that when he visited her in the hospital that day, she didn't recognize him. She thought he was a stranger and got scared and angry, screaming at him to never come back again. Harry, indescribably hurt, ran away to the Trafalgar Square. He remembered tossing a coin in the fountain and wishing. He wished for his mum to get better and for his sister to get better. Gemma was diagnosed with depression soon after his mum was diagnosed. Unfortunately, neither wish came true.

Harry stopped and fished around in his pockets for a coin. He eventually resurfaced one and held it tightly in his hand, squeezing his eyes shut. This time he wished for his future to get brighter, for some kind of success down the line. He also wished for Mum and Gemma to be in a better place. He opened his eyes and tossed in the coin. It splashed in and swam to the bottom with all the other wishes.

-

The square became more and more crowded as the beautiful August day carried on. Harry checked his watch: 11:37. He sat on the side of the fountain, guitar in hand. The case for the guitar was opened on the concrete in front of him. He took a deep breath and started strumming.

Harry spent a lot of lonely hours in foster care with nothing but his guitar, his leather-bound song book, and himself. He had gotten quite good at playing over the years. Some people glanced his way as they walked by, but no one really stopped yet. Until Harry started singing.

" _Isn't she lovely, isn't she wonderful. Isn't she precious, less than one minute old...._ "

Tourists and locals alike stopped to watch and listen with pleasant smiles on their faces. Harry gained confidence as the crowd grew bigger, sitting up straighter and singing a bit louder.

Harry watched proudly as people clapped along and dropped money into the case. When he finished the song, he was shocked to hear applause.

Hearing that people actually _liked_  hearing him sing and that they would _pay_  him for it was just fantastic. Feeling incredibly enthusiastic, Harry did another song. And another. And another.

Some people left after a few songs, but it didn't matter because even more people kept joining the group. After what felt like mere minutes but happened to be a few hours, Harry took a break. He thanked everyone as the crowd dispersed and scooped up his earnings, tucking it safely into his wallet and took a swig of water.

He was crouched on the ground putting away his guitar when he saw a pair of Vans-clad feet stopped in front of him. The toe of the left foot was tapping impatiently. Harry looked up and grinned when he recognized the feet to belong to Louis. His smile slowly faded as he noticed that Louis had his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.

"Please tell me _what exactly_  you think you're doing?" he questioned down to Harry.

Harry looked up, confused. "I... um... was singing a bit?"

"In _my_  square, on _my_  fountain, to _my_  audience?" Louis asked fiercely.

Harry stood up, angry now. "You don't _own_  this place," he spat.

"Well I was here _first_." Louis looked somewhat like a toddler throwing a tantrum, the way he stomped his foot and had to look up at Harry.

"I don't care," Harry said as he crossed his arms defensively. "I need the money and you can't go around telling me what I can and can't do."

Louis opened his mouth to reply, but closed it. He let out a groan of frustration, turned on his heel, and stomped away.

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't care about that stupid boy anyways. With all the money he made today, he would be feasting like a king. Well, Burger King that is.

-

The next day, Harry didn’t pull out his guitar until about 12:30. He sat on the side of the fountain with the case on the floor in front of him as he had the day before. Except this time, he heard a familiar voice speaking behind him. Harry turned around and was able to see Louis’s back from where he was sitting on the other side of the fountain.

Harry heard him talking to some people, making them laugh. He was like the sun; bright and warm and beaming. He then pulled something onto his lap. Was that… a keyboard? It was.

Louis turned around and looked right at Harry, smirking and his eyes sparkling as if to say “Ha! Top this!” He swiveled back towards his little audience. Harry watched and listened in disgust as he started playing and singing _Look After You_ by The Fray. Ugh. He was so talented. Harry hated him.

Well, two could play at that game. Harry started strumming the first chords to _Wonderwall_ by Oasis. He had his own crowd now, too. Harry was able to hear Louis’s voice getting increasingly louder. He quickly glanced back and caught Louis looking at him. Some of the people watching Harry started to linger towards Louis. Harry sang even louder to hopefully drown out the sound of the boy behind him. Then Louis started to sing louder. Then Harry. By this point they were practically screaming, and the audience was starting to look a bit frightened.

Harry was pissed. Who the hell did this guy think he was?? He whirled around so he was completely facing Louis now. "Stop it!" Harry shouted across the fountain.

"No _you_  stop!" Louis said as he turned towards Harry as well. "This is my place and you showed up thinking that I was willing to share. Well guess what? I'm _not!_ " Louis retorted.

"No need to be such a little bitch about it!"

If looks could kill, Harry would be face down in the fountain right now.

"You need to watch yourself, mate. I don't just let people talk to me like that," Louis said menacingly.

"Oh yeah? And what happens if I don't 'watch myself'?" Harry taunted.

Louis slipped off the side of the fountain and into it, charging towards Harry in the knee-deep water. Harry was taken aback for a second because, let's be real, who the hell in their right mind jumps into a fountain to fight someone? Louis does, apparently.

Harry wasted no more time before sliding in as well. He stumbled over to Louis as fast as he could, given the resistance of the water. Louis wasn't exactly so graceful himself.

When they were about 3 feet away from each other, Louis suddenly slammed into Harry. Harry was unsure of whether Louis had meant to tackle him or if he had just tripped, but either way he was on top of Harry in the water. Harry thrashed around, struggling for air. He managed to throw his body up and flip them over so Harry was on top. Louis went under and Harry saw his eyes shoot open as he inhaled a _lot_  of water.

Harry panicked. Yeah, he hated the guy, but he didn't want him to fucking _drown_. In a flash Harry pulled Louis up by his armpits. Louis coughed and sputtered water all over Harry's face, causing him to cringe. "Have you," _-cough-_ "quite," _-cough cough-_ "finished?" Louis croaked out.

Harry rolled his eyes and Louis took this moment of vulnerability to push him over. Harry fell on his ass with his legs spread wide but managed to get his hands back in time to prevent him from falling over on his back. Louis, being the true spawn of Satan himself, leaned forward with his knee on Harry's crotch putting all of his weight on it. Harry's face scrunched up and he let out a loud, pain-filled moan.

Louis stood up and clapped his hands. "Well," he said as Harry withered in pain. "It truly was a pleasure. As much as I don't want to, I'm sure I'll be seeing you around."

"Fuck you," Harry whimpered in a voice several octaves higher than usual.

Louis giggled. He fucking _giggled_. And then he turned around to pick up his stuff and go to wherever he needed to go, leaving Harry struggling to limp out of the fountain while the people of Trafalgar Square watched.

-

It was August 7th; exactly one week since Harry had made himself at home in Trafalgar Square. He had been extremely lucky weather-wise so far. England’s seemingly constant rain had been holding back for the past week. Well, until that day.

Harry had just wrapped up his daily performance. Since that fatal fountain incident, Louis and Harry haven’t been speaking. Of course, they still shot each other death glares from across the fountain, but that was different. Harry has been making just enough money to get by, and was about to invest in yet another unsatisfying meal when he felt the first drop. Looking up at the cloudy, gray sky above, he swore under his breath. Harry sprinted to the nearest (and conveniently cheapest) coffee shop. Just as he stepped inside, the heavens opened up and rain slammed down onto the Earth. Well fuck.

Harry purchased a sandwich and a cup of tea for dinner. He sat by one of the huge windows and watched the downpour, praying that it would end by the time he finished his meal. He also prayed that it wouldn’t rain through the night. It seemed to have escaped his mind that living outside would mean little to no coverage from the rain, but what choice did he have?

He saw a man sprinting through the rain, carrying a keyboard-shaped case in his hands. Harry instantly recognized him to be Louis. He chuckled to himself as he watched his mortal enemy get entirely soaked, nearly slipping several times. Harry took a sip of his tea as he laughed at Louis, burning his tongue in the process. _Karma_ , Harry figured.

As much as he hated him, Harry thought about Louis a lot. He wondered if he had a place to stay and whether he had a roommate or not. He wondered why Louis had to resort to performing on the streets to make money and if he had any other jobs. He was pretty mysterious, as far as Harry was concerned.

Harry finished up his dinner but the rain hadn’t let up in the slightest so he stayed in the coffee shop. He checked the clock on the wall: 7:30. He didn’t know how late this place stayed open, but hoped it was late enough that he wouldn’t have to get soaked. The place gradually emptied out as he continued to sit there hypnotized by the rain streaking down the window.

He was pulled out of his trance by a tap on his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir,” an employee said. “We’re about to close.”

Harry looked at the clock and frowned when he saw what time it was. “But it’s only 8 o’clock,” he told the woman.

“We close early on Sundays,” she informed him. Harry nodded and reluctantly stood up. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and picked up his guitar case. He shuffled past the counter. “Have a good night!” one of the baristas called.

“Thanks, I’ll try,” he said as he gazed at the heavy rain right outside the door. He placed his hand on the door, braced himself, and then pushed. The rain was deafeningly loud as he ran down the street and into the square. There was practically no cover from the precipitation. Water soaked his clothes and shoes and socks as he bolted through puddles. He used a wet hand to push the wet hair out of his face as he continued to move. It was difficult to see, but Harry spotted the National Gallery art museum. He hunkered down against the building where a ledge kept him mostly dry.

The temperature seemed to drop at least ten degrees since it started raining. Harry took a sweatshirt out of his bag and put it on. He pulled his knees into his chest, shivering from being wet in the cold. Harry watched the rain fall on the empty square and felt truly lonely for the first time in a long time. During his 2 year stay in foster care he isolated himself, not allowing himself to feel any emotions. He turned himself cold those two years. Upon moving out, he vowed that he would turn his life around. He promised that he would one day be happy again. It was apparent that today wasn’t the day, and probably not tomorrow either. But Harry knew that that day would come, and hopefully it would be soon.

-

Harry remembered when he was thirteen-, fourteen-, and fifteen-years old being incredibly excited when he woke up to rain. He loved that he could cuddle up in his blankets and go back to sleep, not moving till noon.

Today, however, when he woke to rain he could not be more disappointed. The square was almost empty except for a few people hurriedly passing through under umbrellas for work. Harry worried about the fact that he wouldn’t be able to make any money today. He had extra money, of course, but if the rain held up for too long he would run out. Harry wondered if Louis was having the same problem.

Around one o’clock, the rain subsided to a drizzle and Harry was very, _very_ , hungry. He hid his guitar around the corner of the building and walked to the closest pharmacy using his backpack to cover his head. Once inside, Harry bought two boxes of granola bars and a case of water bottles. After purchasing them, he sat down by the exit and took the granola bars out of the box and the bottles out of the case so it would take up less room in his backpack. He didn’t care if people thought he looked nuts.

“You look nuts,” a familiar voice said, and okay, maybe he did care a little. Harry glared up at Louis who was holding a plastic bag containing milk and a box of tea. Instead of responding, Harry stood up to walk out.

“Wait,” Louis said with a hand on Harry’s arm. Harry stopped and turned. “I-I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude. Sorry.”

Harry shrugged because yeah, it was. He was a bit confused as to why Louis was trying to be nice, though. “It’s alright,” he said.

They were both quiet for a moment. “I guess you’re stocking up?” Louis said referring to the granola bars and water bottles.

“Yeah, figured it’d be a good idea if it rains for a few days.”

Louis nodded in understanding. He looked like he was going to say something else, but stopped. “It’s tough, but hang in there.”

Harry gave him a small smile. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Louis returned the smile. “No problem.” He glanced outside at the rain steadily coming down harder. “I should probably get going. Take care, Harry.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry said. He genuinely meant it.

-

Three days later and it was still raining. Harry was absolutely _miserable_. Moving from underneath ledges of buildings meant that Harry would get very wet and very cold very quickly, so he avoided doing so. He couldn’t really afford to buy anything other than granola bars right now but regardless of how hungry he currently was, if he even  _smelled_  any more granola he would throw up. Not to mention he was totally bored out of his mind.

Harry had eventually decided to try to do some writing to pass the time. While in the foster home, he did a lot of songwriting. He struggled with creating the music, but he loved writing the lyrics. He took out his leather-bound notebook and a pen and began to brain storm. Harry had already filled up three-quarters of the notebook. In it contained songs about love and loss and hope and fun, little poems, doodles, and some diary entries. Harry’s heart and soul were written out between the covers. It was the most important thing he owned.

He found himself quickly filling up those pages as the days wore on. It was two days later now, and the precipitation had come to a halt. Harry woke up that morning overjoyed that he would now be able to walk around without being ambushed by rain and would be able to actually make more money. He set up a bit earlier than usual and sang his heart out. It felt good to be back. Soon after, he looked over and saw Louis had the same idea. Louis caught his eye and nodded to acknowledge him, still continuing to sing. Harry was glad they were on better terms now. He didn’t like to fight with people. Plus he thought Louis was just overreacting about the whole thing.

As Harry was packing up at the end of the day, he overheard two women talking. "Can you believe that rain we had?" one said.

"I know, it was insane," the other replied. "I heard that we're supposed to have a long, harsh winter this year."

"So did I. I'm really not looking forward to that."

 _Neither am I,_  Harry thought.

-

Weeks passed by the same way; performing and making money while the weather was nice, feeling miserable when the weather wasn't, and a polite relationship with Louis. They still didn't interact much, but Harry was happy it didn't seem like he hated him anymore.

It was mid-October when Harry's problems increased. Now that the summer was well over and the weather was getting colder, less and less people have been in Trafalgar Square. Which, of course, meant less and less money for Harry. He was constantly cold and constantly hungry. He had some extra clothes with him in his backpack but it was barely enough. All of his clothes hung loosely on his now much thinner frame. He was extremely worried because of how cold it was in _October_. He didn't want to even think of how cold it would be in December.

It was yet another unsuccessful day for Harry. He was sitting against the art museum, exhausted and cold and hungry. He was having trouble sleeping at night, too busy worrying if he was going to be able to eat the next day.

He tried to write a bit to keep his mind off of his growling, empty stomach but couldn't focus. Harry couldn't think straight any more. Without much second thought, Harry stood up and walked out of the square. He wondered around a bit until he found a busy sidewalk. He blended in with the crowd, walking with them to the nearest street corner. The large group stopped to wait for the signal to cross.

Harry was standing behind an official-looking man in an expensive-looking suit. Harry faked a sneeze, throwing his body onto the man and his hand into his pocket. "Oh my God I'm so sorry, sir," Harry said as he wiped and patted down the man's suit with his other hand. It seemed to distract him enough for Harry to slip his hand out of his pocket with his wallet.

"It's alright just... stop touching me," the man said.

"Right, yeah, sorry it won't happen again," Harry said as he slipped the man's wallet into his own pocket.

And then the light changed, and the mass of people crossed the street. Harry followed, trying to not seem suspicious. He let himself go with the crowd, wherever it took him. He spotted a diner and decided to treat himself. He hasn't eaten a thing all day, after all.

Once inside the restaurant, he opened the wallet to find €400. _In cash_. Harry thought he was going to cry out of pure joy. He took a seat up on a bar stool and ordered chocolate chip pancakes: his favorite. He was in heaven. Harry hasn't had proper food in the longest time.

He was too busy basking in the euphoria of chocolatey deliciousness that he didn't hear the door to the small diner open and shut behind him.

"Pick up for Tomlinson," Harry heard. He turned to his right and saw Louis leaning over the counter to talk to the man working there. "Thanks," he said as he was handed a bag.

Louis looked over at Harry and smiled. "I'm not following you, I swear."

"Hmm... I don't know if I believe you," Harry said, playing along.

"Fine!" Louis said with a laugh, throwing his hands up in surrender. "You've caught me!"

Harry laughed as well. "Have a seat," he told Louis, patting the bar stool next to him. Louis sat down.

"How have you been?" he asked Harry.

Harry exhaled with a shake of his head. "Certainly could be better."

"I know what it's like," Louis said. "But hey, you're sitting here with a nice warm meal. That's not too bad right?"

"Oh, it's great. I haven't had pancakes this good since..." Harry trailed off, not wanting to be upset by the thought of his mum right now.

"So I take it you've been making money pretty well?"

Harry fidgeted. "Um, I mean, I guess you could say that..."

Louis's eyes widened. "You didn't...?" he glanced down at the wallet on the counter. "You did!"

"Louis lower your voice please," Harry said in a frantic whisper. "I'm hungry. I had no choice. You have to understand!"

"Oh no, I _do_  understand. You couldn't bother to put in the effort to make the money yourself. I thought you were different." And with that Louis stood up angrily.

"C'mon Louis, please," Harry begged.

"Give it a rest. Next time you steal from some innocent person, I hope it reminds you of how much respect I just lost for you." Louis stormed off with his take out dinner.

Harry rolled his eyes at Louis for being so melodramatic. It was annoying how easily he got upset and Harry really didn't need that in his life. As much as he tried to deny it, it left a sour feeling in his stomach that Louis wasn't happy with him. He was losing his appetite over this, but Harry knew he better finish up his meal or he would be hungry later. He did, slapped down the €15 that the meal cost him, and trudged out the door for yet another cold, lonely night.

-

November 24th was the day Harry officially ran out of money. The €400 that he had stolen was gone. The extra money left for him from his mother was also gone. He had only used it on food, extra clothing, and new toothpaste (he's been brushing his teeth in the public restrooms) but it seemed to have flew out of his hands.

Harry was once again cold, hungry, and desperate. He managed to nick a woman's wallet that day, but couldn't help but think of Louis. He didn't understand why, but the thought of Louis being disappointed in him left Harry feeling like he was going to throw up. The guilt was overwhelming this time and the wallet felt like it was burning a hole in his hands. He ended up caving and chasing the woman down, returning the wallet and telling her that she had dropped it. Harry felt a bit better after that, but of course it didn't change the fact that he was miserable.

Harry hadn't seen Louis since they were in the diner a little over a month ago. He had ceased performing in Trafalgar Square, seemingly because it was simply too fucking cold. Harry didn't blame him. It was way below freezing every day.

Since Louis was no longer there, Harry had a few more people to make money from. But since those people probably agreed that it really was too fucking cold, not many were outside wandering through the square. Harry was now making only a few euros every performance. That was enough for one meal per day.

A week passed by without any improvement money-wise. Harry was getting really sick from being outside in the freezing weather. He had a persistent cough, an extremely sore throat, was pretty sure he had a fever, and was constantly feeling dizzy and achy. His less-than-sufficiently-nutritious daily meals weren't helping either. He wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to live like this. Probably not long at all.

It was a day in early December when things hit rock bottom. It was yet another cold, gloomy early afternoon when Harry woke up. He kept himself up all night coughing and still couldn't stop. His whole body shook from the temperature (and probably a fever) causing his teeth to audibly rattle. He was clothed in layers upon layers but that did little to keep the cold from working its way into his body. Harry didn't try to move until late afternoon, but struggled when be tried to stand up; his legs were so shaky and his head spun at the slightest movement. The lack of food and water and warmth left him weak and dizzy.

His fingers were too numb from the cold to strum the guitar so he simply took it out and opened the case for people to drop money into. He pulled his hands into the sweatshirt to keep them warm, creating sweater paws. That was barely enough to keep him warm, so he crossed his arms over his chest as well.

When Harry started to sing, his voice was weak and shaky. He had to struggle to keep his teeth from chattering. It was cold enough that Harry was very clearly able to see his breath in the air. After a mere ten seconds or so of singing, Harry felt yet another cough bubbling up inside of him. He coughed into the crook of his arm, but he was so weak that it took a lot out of him. Still coughing, he doubled over, tears forming in his eyes. He could barely breathe and he thought that his lungs would be thrown out his body.

He managed to stand up again, feeling dizzier than before. Harry saw a few people around and was determined to get them to give him their money. He parted his terribly chapped lips to sing, but only a croak came out. Harry stopped, panicked. He took a deep breath to restart but the action only made him have to cough again. After calming himself, he attempted to sing again. With unexplainable horror, Harry found that his voice came out as a croak once more through his very sore throat. With no voice, he didn't have any hope of making money.

And that's when Harry lost it. He collapsed on the ground in a heap, sobbing uncontrollably. He was broke and tired and hungry and cold and lonely and he just wanted to go home. He wanted to sit on the warm couch wedged between his mum and Gemma and eat cookies and watch game shows and shout out the answers to the questions and then go to bed happy and full and have his mum tuck him in with a kiss on the forehead. He wanted to wake up in the morning to chocolate chip pancakes and orange juice and have his mum tousle his hair when he sat down at the kitchen table. He wanted to get ice cream with his sister after school on a Friday, and order a sundae with vanilla and rainbow sprinkles and whipped cream and Gemma would order chocolate with chocolate sprinkles and hot fudge on the bottom because that's how she always loved it. He wanted to go to the movies with them again on a rainy Tuesday in July and unwrap Christmas gifts with them and go to the beach with them and drink hot cocoa with them and make s'mores with them and go apple picking with them but he couldn't, and he never will be able to again because they were gone and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Harry cried and cried and cried. His sobs loud and now raspy since he had lost his voice. He didn't stop until the sun was set and he could no longer produce tears. He sat there, knees hugged to his chest and tremors running through his body. He lied down, even more exhausted now. It was freezing and his body was shaking, but he didn't care anymore. He felt empty. He gave up. When Harry shut his eyes to try to sleep, a huge part of hoped that he wouldn't wake up this time.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis _really_  didn't want to be outside in this weather, especially at 10 o'clock in the night. It had started to snow about two hours ago and it was absolutely _freezing_. But Louis ran out of cereal, and he really really loves his cereal.  
  
He bundled up and ran from his dingy apartment building, nearly slipping several times. He wanted this trip to be as short as possible so he could curl up in bed as soon as he got home. He rounded the corner and dashed through Trafalgar Square, but something caught his eye. He slowed to a stop and turned around. He hesitantly walked back to the bundle of clothing that he quickly recognized to be a person.  
  
As he got closer he saw beneath all of that cloth and a thin layer of snow was Harry. All annoyance that he had felt towards the boy melted away as soon as he saw him laying there. Louis's eyes widened in horror. Was he alive??  
  
Louis rushed over and shook Harry. He didn't move. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Louis leaned down and put his ear next to Harry's face. He heard him breathing. Okay. Okay.  
  
Louis continued to shake Harry. "Harry, wake up! Please wake up!" After a moment Harry's eyes cracked open.  
  
"Louis?" he said, his voice raspy.  
  
Louis let out a huge sigh of relief. "Yeah it's me. Oh God, I can't believe you've been out here the whole time. Come with me. Can you get up? I can help you up."  
  
Harry coughed violently before attempting to move. He managed to sit up, but groaned and put a hand to his forehead.  
  
"Are you okay? Do you feel dizzy?" Louis questioned.  
  
"Sick. Haven't eaten much either," Harry mumbled in reply.  
  
"Oh, I see," Louis said, growing increasingly worried.  
  
Louis helped haul Harry up. He could barely stand and placed most of his weight on Louis's shoulders. Louis slung Harry's backpack onto his back and picked up his guitar case, leading him back to his apartment. The cereal could certainly wait.

The snow had almost completely soaked through Harry and Louis’s clothes by the time they got back. Both were shivering as they climbed the last flight of steps to the doorway. Louis put the guitar case down and fished the keys from out of his pocket. He opened the door and stepped inside, placing the guitar and Harry’s backpack in the doorway. Harry still stood in the hallway.

Louis gestured inside. “Well here we are, la casa della Tommo.”

Harry shakily walked in, eyes wide as he looked around. Louis suddenly felt very embarrassed of his tiny home. It had one main room that held a couch that pulled out into a bed and a dresser that contained all of his clothes, towels, and linens in the various drawers. The "kitchen" was actually a section of this same room that took up about a third of the space. Louis appropriately referred to it as The Corner, for it wasn't much more than that. It had a refrigerator, a sink built into a cheap counter-top that had a few cabinets built into the wall on top, a table with two chairs, and a garbage can. In addition to that there was a small bathroom and a small closet. “I know it’s not much,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “but it’s got heat, running water, and a fridge stocked with beers so what more do you really need?”

“No, it’s great,” Harry said hoarsely, almost in awe.

At first Louis figured Harry was just trying to be nice, but then he remembered that Harry has been living out on the streets of London for the past few months and was probably being honest.

“Alright, let’s get you something to eat.”

-

Harry inhaled six and a half pieces of buttered toast before Louis could say “Eat slow so you don’t upset your stomach.”

Harry was throwing up before Louis could say “Told you so.”

He was collapsed over the toilet while Louis rubbed his back the same way his mother did when he was younger and had a stomach bug. Harry was also still coughing and looked like he was about to pass out. He had his head leaning against his arm and was shaking slightly. Louis moved his hand up to his head hesitantly then started to stroke his hair. He made a face from the feeling of his tangled, filthy, unwashed hair, but still continued to run his fingers through it because of the way Harry seemed to relax when he started to do so.

“Why don’t you take a nice, warm shower to clean up and calm you down a bit? Then after that you can try eating again. Sound good?”

Harry nodded against his arm. “Do you, uh, need any help?” Louis asked. He could feel his face getting hot and got pretty angry at himself. He never was the kind of person to get embarrassed or awkward about something like seeing someone else naked, and hated that he felt that way now.

“Think I got it,” Harry mumbled. Louis felt slightly disappointed (although he would never admit it) and helped him up. He went back into the room to fetch some clothes from Harry’s backpack. When he opened the bag he caught a whiff of Harry’s clothing and decided to grab some of his own pajamas for Harry to borrow instead.

“Here,” Louis said as he handed him the clean clothes and a towel. “Hope this fits. I can run over to the Laundromat for you tomorrow.”

Harry looked at Louis as if he was a gift from God. “Thank you,” he said. “I really mean it. I can’t even,” _–cough cough-_ “put it into words how much this means to me. You didn’t have to do this.”

Louis was shocked because 1) this is the most Harry has been able to say all night and 2) of course Louis was doing him a huge favor, but did Harry really think that he would leave him outside to literally _die_? Louis just shook his head. “You’re welcome, and trust me, I _wanted_ to do this for you.”

Harry smiled the sweetest smile Louis has ever seen. He felt himself melting at the sight of that smile, wanting to be the one who made Harry look like that every day. Oh God, Louis was getting all mushy over him, and he had a feeling it was being portrayed all over his face. That needed to stop.

Louis playfully bat at Harry’s cheek. “Go on, then. Get in the shower already. You’re stinking up my house!”

If Harry had the energy, he would’ve shoved Louis’s face in his armpit or something, but since he didn’t he just stuck his tongue out at him and ushered him out of the bathroom. Once the door was closed and Louis was in the main room of the apartment, he heard the water turn on. Louis pulled out the full sized bed that folded into the couch. The mattress was slightly lumpy, but it was warm and comfortable enough. He decided that he would let Harry take the bed and he would sleep on the floor. He would much rather lay in a bed, obviously, but Harry seemed pretty sick and he didn’t want to catch whatever he had. Louis threw one of the two pillows and a few extra blankets on the floor.

Louis had just finished his makeshift bed when Harry emerged from the bathroom with wet curls looking overall refreshed. “Feel better?” Louis asked.

“Much.” Harry replied.

Harry sat back down at the table in The Corner while Louis prepared him some scrambled eggs (“No more toast for you, sir.”). After he finished making them, he placed the plate in front of Harry and sat across from him. “Pace yourself,” Louis reminded.

The next half hour consisted of Harry restraining himself from gobbling down the plate of food while Louis watched. There wasn’t much talking, and for right now there didn’t need to be. Louis gave Harry some cough medicine and some ibuprofen to calm his headache and lower his fever. Louis watched Harry climb into bed, making sure that he was warm and that he was full and that he was comfortable and that he had brushed his teeth and told him that yes, he was totally fine with sleeping on the floor for now. Before Louis attempted to get comfortable on the floor, he got Harry a glass of water and put it on the nightstand next to the bed in case Harry got thirsty in the middle of the night. “If you need anything, I’m right here and more than happy to help,” Louis reassured him as he lay down.

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry said genuinely. Louis felt joy bubble up in his chest at the nickname and pulled the covers up around him tighter.

“Anything for you, Harry,” he replied. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

It was pretty late now and Louis was totally exhausted, but thoughts of Harry kept him awake staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t until long after Louis started to hear Harry’s gentle snores did he finally start drifting off to sleep.


End file.
